


In the Wake of Saturday

by llama_party



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Bottom Patrick, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-18
Updated: 2015-12-18
Packaged: 2018-05-07 09:02:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5450999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/llama_party/pseuds/llama_party
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It didn’t matter now, because Patrick had walked out, and it was Pete’s fault.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Wake of Saturday

**Author's Note:**

> sorry mom, im dropping out of high school to write gay porn. thanks to my friends for proofreading it for me, and pointing out where i switched tenses.

To say that Pete was worried would've been an understatement. He was downright terrified. Not for his own sake, though. He and Patrick had gotten into a fight; the biggest one they'd had in years. He sat on the couch, worried to death that something would happen to Patrick, and trying to remember what they had even started fighting about. Whatever it was, it didn’t matter now, because Patrick had walked out, and it was Pete’s fault. He had yelled at Patrick, but Patrick, ever the sensible one, hadn’t yelled back. It had only served to make Pete madder. Then he had started yelling, which managed to make him madder. The fight had started deescalating but Pete had to go and fuck it up. He made a snide comment about Patrick’s weight, and that had been it. He remembered Patrick making a pained face before he turned around, walking out the door. He had stared at the the front door for about twenty minutes before the gravity of the situation fully hit him.

What if Patrick never came back? What if he had died? The worst possible situations ran through his head, his anxiety getting the better of him. Pete sat on the edge of the couch, feeling faint. He called Patrick, and got voicemail. So he tried again. And again. And again, until he was sure that Patrick was ignoring him because he was done with Pete. Pete threw his phone, and watched it bounce under one of the chairs. He’d get it later, he thought tiredly. He just wanted Patrick to come home.

Two hours had passed, and in that time, it had started raining hard. Pete tried to call Patrick four or five more times. He called Joe and Andy, to ask if they had heard from Patrick. He decided to throw a blanket in the dryer, so that if Patrick came home, he’d have a warm blanket to cocoon himself in.

Another two hours passed, and Pete had lost hope. His phone had died, the dryer had been restarted over and over, and he’d been pacing in the living room for about half an hour now. The warm bosom of his king-sized bed was an inviting escape from his worries. But he wouldn’t go to bed, he couldn’t. That was their bed--it would remind him too much of Patrick, and he’d never be able to relax. He sat down on the couch, leaning heavily into the cushions. Patrick was gone, it was his fault. The next time he heard from Patrick, it would be to let him know that it was over, and that he never wanted to speak to him--

“Pete?”

There he was, standing behind the couch, soaking wet and shivering so hard it looked painful. His eyes were red and puffy, like he’d been crying for a long, long time. Pete launched himself over the back of the couch and hugged Patrick tightly. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered into the younger man’s ear. 

He pulled back to look at Patrick.

“Where’d you go? I was worried half to death that you’d died or something!”   
“I just went and sat in the car,” Patrick told him.

Pete looked at him for a moment, “I thought you’d driven off somewhere.”

“Nope. I’m dangerous if I drive while upset,” Patrick said, leaning his head on Pete’s shoulder.

They stood there, wrapped in each other's arms for what felt like hours, until Pete pulled away and led Patrick to the bedroom. Patrick peeled off his wet clothes while Pete went to the dryer to get the blanket he'd warmed up. When he returned, Patrick was already curled up in bed, his breathing slow. Pete changed into his sweatpants, before crawling in next to Patrick. He wrapped his arms around Patrick's chest, before pressing chaste kisses into his boyfriend’s hair. 

“Love you,” Patrick mumbled tiredly. 

Pete kissed him on the forehead, “I love you too, Trick”

\--------------------------------------------------------------------

Patrick woke up the next morning to Pete pressing soft kisses to his neck.

“Wuhh?” Patrick groaned. Pete looked up at him, staring at him like the sun was shining out of his ass.

“Morning, Trick,” he said, kissing up Patrick’s neck and onto his jaw, “You down for some make-up sex?”

“Uh,” Patrick was still half asleep, “why?”

“Because,” Pete paused to kiss him again, “we had a fight and I was a dick, and I wanna make it up to you.”

Patrick hummed in response, which Pete took as a yes. He kissed Patrick deeply, shifting to straddle him. Patrick groaned and wiggled his hips as best he could.

Pete breaks the kiss, grinning and grinding down onto Patrick’s already hard cock. Patrick’s lips are red and swollen, and Pete’s in love. He loves seeing him like this.

“That didn’t take very long,” he says breathlessly.

He pulled himself away from Patrick to take his shirt and sweatpants off. Somewhere between pulling his shirt off and struggling to get his sweatpants off, he decided to turn it into a striptease. Of course, he’s already struggling, so a striptease is obviously gonna make it go smoother.

Except it doesn’t. Instead of looking hot and teasing Patrick, he trips himself and almost faceplants onto their bed.

When Pete finally gets his clothes off, he looks to Patrick to find that he’s already naked. And kinda mad. Why’s he mad?  
“I was promised make-up sex and you’re busy tripping over yourself over there,” He huffs.

Pete crawled onto Patrick, kissing his neck.

“Mmm, sorry baby. We can do whatever you want.”

He already knows what Patrick wants.

“I want you to eat my ass,” he says, matter-of-factly.

Pete kisses him again and grins. He nips and kisses at Patrick’s pure, porcelain skin, working his way down. He stops when he reaches Patrick’s cock, wrapping his hand around it and giving a couple of quick strokes. 

“Nnghhh,” Patrick whines, “Hurry up and eat me out.”

When he pressed his tongue to Patrick’s hole, his beautiful, twinky boyfriend whined and bucked his hips. Pete dug his nails into the pale, unblemished skin, relishing in Patrick’s grunting and whining. He pulled away from Patrick’s ass, nipping at the pale thighs he loves so much. 

He pressed two fingers to Patrick’s lips.

“Suck,” he orders.

And Patrick does. He takes Pete’s fingers into his mouth, wrapping his tongue around the digits. He moans around them, making sure Pete knows just how much he’s enjoying this.

Pete pulled his fingers out of Patrick’s mouth and promptly pushed one finger into his ass. Patrick gasped and bucked his hips. Pete licked around his finger, and inserted a second finger. He scissored his fingers, eating up Patrick’s moans. Pete wraps his free hand around Patrick’s neglected cock, and starts jerking him off in tandem with his scissoring fingers.

“Nnggggaaah,” Patrick breathed, “Hey, I wa-”

He’s cut off when Pete brushes his prostate.

“Hey, douchebag,” he snapped. Pete looked up at him. He’s promptly hit in the face with the bottle of lube from the nightstand.

“I want you to fuck me, right now.”

Pete grinned and pulled his fingers out of Patrick’s ass. He drizzled lube over three fingers, then leaned down and nipped at the thick, pale thighs; pressing three fingers into Patrick. He worked Patrick open further, until he heard Patrick whine.

“Hey, I’m ready, get up here and fuck me babe I can’t-,” he babbled.

“I got you, Trick, don’t worry,” Pete murmured.

He leaned over to the nightstand and grabbed a condom. When he rolled it on to his throbbing dick, he shuddered; he had been ignoring just how hard he had gotten. 

He leaned down and kissed Patrick, then thrust into him. Patrick whined into the kiss, bucking his hips in time with Pete’s thrusts. Pete looked down at Patrick, admiring how beautiful he looked. His lips were red and swollen, and his blush had spread to his chest. He looked thoroughly debauched, and Pete loved it. 

His thrusts became more erratic as he approached his climax. He wrapped his hand around Patrick’s leaking cock. He thrust into Patrick once, twice, and came. His whole body shuddered with the aftershocks as he stroked Patrick’s cock. 

“Hey, come on Trick, come for me baby,” he whispered into Patrick's ear. 

Patrick's thighs trembled as he came, spilling over Pete’s hand. He let out a breathy moan as Pete stroked him through his orgasm. They laid there, breathing heavily for a moment, until Pete pulled out of Patrick. He pulled the condom off and tied it off, throwing it into the trash bin under the nightstand. 

Pete laid down next to Patrick, who turned to face him. 

“Hey,” Patrick said, “I love you.”

“So does that mean I'm forgiven?”

“Mmmm,” Patrick hummed contently, nestling his face into the crook of Pete’s neck. 

Pete took that as a yes.


End file.
